


Winter Wasteland

by ViciousVenin



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Party Poison, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, and he loves his lanky boyfriend kobra, and is generally suave guy, bandom holidays 2018, but it is resolved and it's cute, night shade is like. not really gabe he just looks like him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-29 02:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViciousVenin/pseuds/ViciousVenin
Summary: "Winters are hard out in the desert, even harder than the summers."





	Winter Wasteland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winterlover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterlover/gifts).



> Written for Bandom Holidays 2018!
> 
> Thank you Ashley for the beta.

Winters are hard out in the desert, even harder than the summers, Poison would say. There’s a chill that settles deep in their bones and an emptiness in their chest like a cave. More than anything, it’s the feeling of loneliness even in a crowded room that gets to Poison.

“What’s up, dipshit?” Ghoul hops up onto the hood of the Trans Am next to Poison, knocking their shoulders as he does. “You havin’ one of your _emotional_ moments?”

“Shut up,” Poison says, but they’re smiling. “Jet find anything yet?”

Ghoul shakes his head. “Nah. No trace of ‘em.”

Poison nods, unsurprised. They’ve been chasing this particular band of dracs from here to hell but haven’t been able to do much more than follow the traces as they fade. None of them want to give up, though, and the thunder that crosses Kobra’s face every time someone mentions what they lost reminds them that giving up isn’t really an option.

“We’ll catch them,” Ghoul says, looking at Poison like he’s trying to reassure himself as much as anyone else. “We’ll get him back.”

“We have to,” Poison agrees. Night Shade makes Kobra happy, and that’s more than enough for them to chase down the dracs who took him.

Jet appears from around the corner of the burnt-out warehouse, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I think I got us a lead. Or- well. It's something, at least.”

 _Something_ turns out to be a torn piece of map, splattered with blood. Between the shredded edges and the red stains, hardly anything on it visible, and Ghoul isn't sure they'll be able to get any info out of it, but then Poison steps forward and takes the scrap, squinting hard at it.

Ghoul watches Poison closely, sees the crease between their eyebrows deepen, the hard set of their mouth slowly quirking up as they catch onto something no one else could have possibly seen.

“They're back tracking,” Poison says. “Trying to throw us off. This here,” they point to a dot that had been marked on the map, presumably by the dracs. “That's the totem pole.”

Kobra sucks in a sharp breath and Ghoul looks up at him. His eyes are wide and scared.

“We’ll get to him, Kobra,” Poison says. “Don't worry.”

Ghoul doesn't doubt Poison for a second. He can’t, not when Poison’s set their mind to something. Even with the possibilities looming over them: Night hanging from the totem pole, strung up by the dracs before they could rescue him. They’ll get to him in time, Ghoul knows.

Poison opens the driver’s side door. “We’ll catch them.”

Nothing else matters when Poison makes a promise like that.

~

The totem pole is all the way back in Zone 5, miles and miles out from where they’d tracked the dracs to the warehouse in Zone 3. Ghoul thinks it’s a little odd that this particular crew is being smart about their kidnapping, doubling back instead of taking Night straight to the City, but they did leave clues for them to find along the way.

The bleak, winter scene rolls by Ghoul out the window as he watches from the back seat. Poison is driving at their usual break-neck speed, but they’re all so used to it by now that it almost feels gentle. They drive all day and into the night, only stopping once when Poison swerves so hard the car nearly flips.

“What the fuck?” Ghoul asks as Poison quickly brings the car to a stop. “Did we hit something?”

Poison’s head is bowed. “Kobra?” they ask without looking up. “You think you could drive?”

Oh. Poison’s been driving for close to twenty hours straight now, having set off from the diner as soon as Kobra had told them about Night’s kidnapping. It hadn’t even occurred to Ghoul that Poison might be tired.

Wordlessly, Kobra vacates the passenger seat and rounds the car just as Poison gets out. They’re about to take Kobra’s spot when they stop, pausing awkwardly half-in, half-out of the car.

“Jet, could you...”

“You wanna sleep?” Jet pipes up from his spot next to Ghoul. Poison nods, and the two of them switch spots instead.

This is all so incredibly foreign to Ghoul that he’s having trouble wrapping his mind around it. Never once has Ghoul seen Poison let anyone else drive the Trans Am, and neither has he seen Poison show any sign of weakness. Then again, he hasn’t been with this crew all that long, in the grand scheme of things.

Poison settles into the back seat, and suddenly Ghoul can’t take his eyes off them. He’s spent the past few months wondering how Poison manages it; making runs nearly every day, leading the rest of them into battle when they’re caught in a tight spot, planning every step of their next move deep into the night, long after everyone else has gone to sleep.

Now Ghoul knows how Poison does it: they don’t. The dark circles under their eyes and the frustrated look on their face as they try to get comfortable in the back seat show it. Poison’s reached the end of their rope, probably not for the first time since Ghoul’s know them, but this is the first time he’s been allowed to see it.

Ghoul shifts awkwardly, not sure how to go about responding to Poison’s display of trust. Because that’s what this is: Poison finally trusts him enough to let him close enough to see the frayed ends and broken pieces.

“Do you want...” Ghoul trails off, and Poison cracks an eye open. Clearing his throat, Ghoul says, “You can stretch out more, if you want. I don’t mind.” Ghoul gestures to his lap, hoping that Poison will understand what he means.

Poison nods, and then proceeds to dump his dirty, dusty boots in Ghoul’s lap as they situate themself against the opposite car door. Ghoul looks down at the feet in his lap and frowns. He figures he kind of deserved as much.

They drive on and on, through the dark, dead of night, and after a while Ghoul hears a soft, rhythmic sound from beside him. He turns to see that Poison has indeed managed to fall asleep, their quiet snores the only sound other than the purr of the engine. Ghoul feels a smile tugging at his mouth despite himself. They look beautiful.

He must fall asleep at some point, because the next thing he knows, the car is stopped and Kobra is shaking him awake.

“We’re here,” Kobra says.

Ghoul shades his eyes from the sunlight and sits up. Poison is in a similar state, just barely peeking their eyes open. When they catch sight of Ghoul, they give him a soft smile, not one that Ghoul’s ever seen on Poison before. Something in Ghoul’s belly flips.

Outside the car, Jet and Kobra are standing at the base of the totem pole, staring up at the countless markings and divots in the wood. There’s no one else around.

Ghoul turns to look out the rear window, then scans the area completely, but finds nothing but dust and rocks.

“There’s no one here,” he says.

Poison laughs. “Wow, you’re a genius,” they say. “What ever would we do without you?” Poison sits up then, moving their feet out of Ghoul’s lap and flashing him another smile, a different, more playful one that makes Ghoul’s stomach flip again.

Poison quickly looks away, back out to where Kobra and Jet are contemplating the pole. “We’d better get out there,” they say, opening the car door.

Their boots crunch on the hard, cold ground as they step out of the Trans Am. Poison walks to stand beside Kobra, Ghoul following shortly after. The four of them stare up at the totem pole, taking in the scene. Poison thinks they could look at it for hours and still notice something new about it. A new name carved into the wood, a new painting near the top. A new blood stain from the latest life claimed by the pole.

It’s a gruesome way to go, generally only reserved for traitors and rapists. The worst of the worst strung up on the pole and left to rot. Recently, the City had caught wind of the practice and started copying it, at first trying to make the deaths look like an inside job, and after that, seemingly just for fun. Sick pieces of shit, Poison thinks. The pole is for evil doers, not those caught on the wrong end of white gun.

“What the fuck are we doing?” Ghoul asks, snapping them all out of it. Poison watches Ghoul scan the horizon again, but there’s still no one else around. Regardless, “This is a trap,” Ghoul says with certainty.

“You’re probably right,” Jet says, and when Jet says that, you know it’s true. Poison’s stomach clenches with the possibility that they’ve led their crew into an ambush.

Poison starts walking back to the car. “Let’s blow this joint.”

Just then, the sound of an engine comes roaring over the horizon. Poison freezes, and then, “Get in the fucking car.”

The four of them scramble back into the Trans Am while Poison brings the engine to life. They tear off in the same direction they’d been heading earlier, passing by the totem pole and racing as far out as they can in hopes that they’re not seen by their pursuers. It’s weird, Ghoul thinks, to have the chase reversed after days of having the upper hand. In his time with them, Ghoul has never once seen Poison let their crew get taken advantage of. He’s not sure what to think of it.

The Trans Am jumps forward as Poison shifts gears, taking them even farther into the desert. Out the back window, Ghoul watches for any hint of another vehicle, but still sees nothing except the shrinking totem pole. He hopes that means they haven’t been spotted.

“Poison, there!” Kobra shouts, and the car veers sharply to the left. Ghoul whips his head around to see where they’re headed and notices Kobra pointing to some sort of structure in the distance, hopefully where they can hide and wait the dracs out.

As they get closer, Ghoul sees that it’s an old mill, the kind where they used to house missiles waiting to be launched. Poison quickly pulls around and parks the Trans Am out of sight, and then peers at the building carefully.

It seems empty, but they can’t be sure. Slowly, and as quietly as possible, the four of them exit the car, Poison in front. They lead the group to a padlocked door, then dropping to their knees and pulling out a pin to pick the padlock. The lock clicks open. Poison looks up at Ghoul from where they’re still kneeling and gives him an anxious look. Ghoul tries to be as encouraging as possible without speaking.

The two of them push at the old door until it gives, swinging open with a loud creak that makes them all cringe. But inside, they see no one, and they fan out through the main room. It’s dark and barren, with only the light from outside the door to guide the way. Poison notices faint dents in the dirt where a missile once stood, the much deeper depressions worn away with time. They keep an eye on the other three, making sure none of them stray too far from each other. Ghoul catches their eye for a moment, shooting them a hopeful look that Poison returns.

Suddenly, the door creaks shut behind them, and they are plunged into darkness.

“How kind of you to join us,” says a voice in the shadows. Poison whirls towards it, but they can’t do much but point their gun in the vague direction of the speaker. “We were so worried you wouldn’t come.”

A match ignites, drawing Poison’s eyes to the flame as it’s used to light a lantern, and then another.

“I wouldn’t fire, if I were you,” the voice says. And now Poison’s sure of it, they _know_ that voice.

One of the lanterns is purposefully shifted to the right and down, revealing a lump on the floor of the mill. Night Shade stares back at them with pleading eyes, his mouth gagged and his arms bound behind his back while a drac holds a gun to his temple.

Poison hears Kobra gasp, and then the voice laughs. Slowly, the lantern lifts higher and higher, revealing the voice’s owner.

“So good to see you again, Party Poison,” Korse says.

In that moment, everything clicks into place: the clues left behind, the roaring engine on the horizon, driving them deeper into the desert. Too smart for just a band of reckless dracs. No, Korse knew exactly how to fool them.

“Korse,” Poison spits. “This a job the Director put you on, or have you finally gone off the meds?”

Korse laughs, cold and hallow. “Oh, Party Poison. You never did know when to keep your mouth shut.” Korse nods, and the drac on Night brings the butt of his blaster down on the back of Night’s head.

“No!” Kobra shouts as Night falls forward, unconscious.

“You could’ve had your goods back unharmed,” Korse says, “if you’d bothered to behave.”

Poison aims their gun directly at Korse’s head. “Fuck you.”

Korse’s mouth contorts into a sick imitation of a smile. “You know, if you refuse to cooperate, I could always go straight to the source.”

Out of nowhere, two dracs wrap their arms around Kobra and wrestle him over to the corner before the rest of them can even move. Poison takes a few steps forward, but one of the dracs draws his gun on Kobra, and Poison stops dead.

“All I ask,” Korse continues, “is that you come with us. Just you. _Peacefully_.”

Posion sneers. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

“Oh, I will. But not before I kill off your friends first.”

Poison takes another daring step forward. “You really think you’ve got it in you? To set that blaster to kill instead of stun, to follow every order they give you? When’d you last get out of the tube, hmm? When’s the last time you wore your headphones?”

Ghoul’s mind is waging a war between cheering Poison on and freaking the fuck out about the fact that they are all probably going to die in this room. Better make the most of it, he thinks.

As his eyes have adjusted to the dark, Ghoul’s noticed that Korse only has the three dracs with him: two holding Kobra, one still on Night. Four against four. Poison’s shit talking is actually doing a lot of good, holding Korse’s attention and stalling for time, though it is ramping Korse up more by the second. Slowly, so slowly, Ghoul begins edging away, towards the darker corners of the mill.

“You’re right, Party Poison. Thank you for reminding me. I’ll be sure to check myself in for reprogramming as soon as we arrive back at headquarters.” Korse tries to maintain his cool, collected attitude, but Ghoul can tell Poison’s words are working on him. Poison does that, somehow. Gets under your skin and won’t let go.

“Like hell you will,” Poison is saying as Ghoul continues to edge himself out of view. No one’s noticed yet, not even his own crew. “You’re more like us that you’d like to admit, Korse. You don’t do what you’re told. I bet the Director doesn’t even know you’re here right now.”

Ghoul keeps a close eye on each of the dracs, flitting back and forth between them to make sure none of them are looking his way. It’s difficult to tell with the masks, of course, but he thinks Poison’s making them nervous. Maybe they’re not sure how to handle the news that their faithful leader has gone off BLI’s script.

A few inches more, and Ghoul’s retreated firmly into the shadows. He can barely see the rest of them now, and he’s sure the dracs can’t see him through their masks. Korse probably could, but his eyes are fixed on Poison.

“What the Director knows is none of your business,” Korse says, his voice shaking a little. Poison’s never heard that before, and it sends a little zing of victory up their spine. “She’ll be more than happy when I bring you back with me.”

Testing their luck, Poison takes another step. They’re close to Kobra now, almost close enough to reach out and touch, and they would if not for the two dracs still holding him tight. Taking a minute glance around, Poison notices that Jet has taken a steady aim the drac whose gun is against Kobra’s head, ready to take the shot at any notice. Ghoul has slipped from view entirely. Poison’s not surprised.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, except maybe to hell.” Poison tilts their head to the side, and then says in an almost sweet voice, “I’ll make sure you get there first, though. Wouldn’t want to be selfish.”

Korse growls and steps forward, closing the distance between the two of them with his blaster aimed at Poison’s stomach. Poison’s not afraid, though, even as the cool plastic presses against their skin.

“You listen to me,” Korse is saying, but Poison’s distracted by something over his right shoulder.

Ghoul is there, just visible in the light of the lantern. He puts a finger to his lips, and Poison nods so slightly that you couldn’t notice it unless you were looking for it. Ghoul then aims directly at the drac on Night, and begins counting silently, his lips stretching to make sure Poison and Jet understand.

“ _Three_ ,” Ghoul mouths.

“I hate to tell you this, Korse,” Poison says, interrupting whatever the Exterminator was saying.

Ghoul smiles. “ _Two_.”

“But we didn’t come to chit chat.”

“ _One_.”

“We came to _fuck_.”

Poison smacks Korse’s blaster away, easily pushing it out of range of their body. Korse was never planning on hurting them, anyway. Three _zips_ ring out as Jet and Ghoul fire their blasters at the dracs, and Poison brings their gun up to Korse’s chest and fires before Korse can even blink, still caught in the monologue he’d no doubt been crafting since he woke up with the plan to get Poison all to himself.

The force of it sends Korse flying through the air, and he lands with a solid _thud_ a few yards back. His body is still.

Poison panics for a moment, but when they check their blaster, it’s still set to stun. They exhale, and then turn to where Kobra is already pulling at Night’s bonds.

“You’re okay,” he whispers.

Night nods. “You know me, Kobes,” Night says, smiling even while he winces in pain. “I always bounce back.”

“We gotta go,” Jet says as one of the dracs on the floor starts shifting.

Poison nods and helps carry Night out to the Trans Am, depositing him in the back seat with Jet and Kobra. Ghoul takes the passenger seat beside Poison as they get behind the wheel.

As they start the engine, they flash Ghoul a smile. Ghoul smiles back, his dirty black hair falling over his eyes.

Poison puts the car in gear and takes off into the desert.

~

“Hey,” Ghoul says to Jet, casting a glance at the diner booth where Night and Kobra are cuddled up. They’ve been like that going on three days now, ever since they brought Night back. “You seen Poison around?”

Jet nods. “They’re out back. Think they wanted to get away from the love boat over there.”

Ghoul chuckles. “Thanks.”

He makes his way through the kitchen and out the back door, where the Trans Am sits. Poison’s not sitting on the hood like usual, but the engine in running so Ghoul guesses they must be hiding in the car.

As he gets closer, Ghoul sees a few strands of red hair sticking up against one of the back windows. He pulls the door open, laughing when Poison nearly falls out of the car as their backrest disappears.

“Fuck you!” Poison says. “I was trying to sleep, you piece of shit!”

Ghoul just keeps laughing, climbing over Poison to settle in the backseat, closing the door as he goes.

Poison sits up and gives Ghoul their best grumpy face, folding their arms in front of their chest and refusing to look at him.

“Quit your bitching, I know you wanted company,” Ghoul says.

Poison looks surprised by this. But Ghoul knows them better than they’d like to admit, even if it has only been a few months.

The heater blows warm air at them from the front seats, keeping the cold outside the car at bay. It’d be warmer, Ghoul thinks, if they weren’t sitting so far apart. If one of them just scooted a few inches closer, maybe if Ghoul reached out his arm, placed it carefully around Poison’s tense shoulders-

“I know it’s a waste of fuel,” Poison says, breaking into Ghoul’s thoughts, “but sometimes I just need to not be in there, ya know?”

“With them?” Ghoul asks. Poison is staring straight ahead, and ghoul follows the cut of their jaw as it shifts the way it does whenever Poison’s thinking hard.

“It’s not-” Poison cuts themself off with a frustrated sigh and looks straight at Ghoul. “I’m happy for them, really. Kobra deserves someone to be there for him, like that. I’m just...”

Ghoul considers his next words carefully. “Do you... wish you had someone who was there for you too? Like- like that, I mean.” Ghoul clasps his hands together so Poison won’t see them shaking.

Poison stares at him for one long, silent moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” They’re still for another moment, and then Poison is up and out of the car before Ghoul can even blink.

“Shit,” Ghoul mutters to himself, thinking he’s pushed Poison too far. He turns around when he hears the trunk pop open, can tell Poison is rummaging around in there for something. Oh God, Ghoul thinks, they’re going to fucking kill me.

Ghoul reaches for the passenger door, about to hop out and make a run for it, but then Poison is back, throwing a large quilt at him and climbing into the backseat.

“Unfold it, dingus,” Poison says.

“Right.” Ghoul carefully unfolds the blanket and spreads out so both of them can sit under it. He tries to relax back into the seat after, but Poison is still looking at him like they want something, and Ghoul can’t bring himself to calm down.

Poison scoffs, making Ghoul look at them, but he only sees the blanket shifting as Poison scoots closer, finally coming to a stop at his side and resting their head on Ghoul’s shoulder.

They stay like that for some time, before Ghoul figures out what’s going on and wraps his arm around Poison’s shoulders like he’s been wanting to. It’s nice and warm under the blanket, the chill of winter far away.

“I could, um,” Ghoul starts. “I could be there for you like that, if you want.”

Poison lifts theirs head, catches Ghoul’s eye, and smiles. “I was counting on it.”


End file.
